Wrong About the Guy

“People fly all the time,” I said. “It’s pretty reliable.”


“I don’t want to scare you,” she said, “so I won’t argue. Even though I could. What was that noise?”

“Nothing. Oh, look.” I handed her the menu card. “Wine. You should have some.”

“Maybe,” she said primly.

She had some. And soon after dozed off in her seat, leaving me to enjoy the rest of the flight in peace.





six


The hotel manager came in a limo to pick us up; she handed out our room key cards during the ride, which is when I found out that I was supposed to share a room with Grandma and Jacob.

I didn’t say anything until we had pulled up at the resort, which was spectacularly beautiful: palm trees and fountains everywhere you looked. But I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it. As soon as we’d gotten out of the limo, I grabbed my mother’s arm.

“It’s not fair!” I hissed. “Grandma gets up at like five in the morning. And she drives me crazy. I want my own room.”

“I’m not letting you sleep by yourself in a place where a lot of strangers have passkeys,” she said. “And if you think you can talk me into it, you’re wrong, so save your breath.”

I let go of her and drifted over to George. “I blame you,” I said. “You booked the rooms. You should have gotten me my own.”

“First of all,” he said, “I was following your mother’s instructions. And second of all, I’m sharing a room with Jonathan and Izzy, which is a lot more awkward than sharing a room with your grandmother, so don’t complain to me.”

“You and I could get a room together!” I said. “That would solve both our problems.”

“Yeah, I think that might be awkward in a whole different way,” he said, and walked away.


Mom and Luke went up to their suite, saying they just wanted to have a quiet dinner alone there. I wanted to eat in one of the hotel restaurants, but Jacob was in a whiny mood, so we ordered room service and turned the TV on to the Sprout Channel to keep him happy.

When the food came, Grandma criticized me for ordering a pizza. She said that everyone knew wheat was bad for you and that it was no wonder I was so short.

I told her to stop blaming my diet for the fact I was short—hadn’t she ever heard of genetics? Mom was even shorter than I was, and she wasn’t exactly a giant herself.

She said she was sorry she cared about my health, and she guessed she should just mind her own business from now on, go away, and not bother anyone ever again.

I told her to stop being such a drama queen, and then Jacob suddenly let out a wail. I asked him what was wrong, but he wouldn’t answer, just sat there, his mouth open in a roar so wide you could see bits of french fries caked around his teeth. Grandma said, “It’s because you let him try the pizza,” and I said, “No, it’s not,” and Jacob kept bawling, and the noise was unbearable, and I was losing my temper with them both, so I said I was going down to the lobby and stomped out.

I punched the down button as hard as I could. It didn’t bring the elevator any faster but it felt good.

Once I was in the lobby, I wasn’t sure what to do. I heard distant music so I followed the sound across a breezy walkway to what looked like the entrance to a dance club. I peered in, but I was wearing sweatpants and a cotton tank top and everyone inside was dressed up. Plus they probably didn’t let in anyone under the drinking age. Plus it looked kind of lame—everyone there was middle-aged. Plus I would never go to a dance club by myself.

Still, it was fun to watch for a while. Most of the women were wearing flowery sundresses and the men had on Hawaiian shirts—it was all so tacky it was kind of endearing.

I turned away just as two youngish guys in suits reached for the door.

“Hey there,” one of them said, sidestepping right into my path, blocking my way. “Thinking about coming in?”

“Not really.” I flashed a tight smile.

“Come on,” the other one said. He had slicked-back hair and his suit was a little shiny. “The night’s young and you look like you’re a dancer. Don’t sit this one out.”

“We need you in there,” the other added. His hair was thinning, triangles of bare skin making wings at his temples. “Never enough cute girls.”

“Wrong shoes,” I said, pointing down at my flip-flops.

“Kick ’em off,” the other guy said.

“Take off whatever you want,” his friend agreed, and giggled.

The first one said, “Don’t mind him. We’re harmless. Would you rather grab a drink at the bar?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said, and turned.

Slicked-back hair grabbed my arm. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t leave so fast.”

I pushed his arm away and said, “Really, no.” I was starting to feel uncomfortable, so it was a huge relief to see someone familiar emerge from the restaurant near the lobby. “Oh, there’s my friend,” I said, then dodged around them while they were still absorbing that and ran toward George, calling him. He turned around.

“Keep going,” I said as I caught up to him. “Don’t look back at those guys.”

He immediately looked over his shoulder. “What guys?”

“I told you not to look!” I glanced back. They had disappeared. “They must have gone into the club. It’s fine. I’m just glad I saw you.” We headed back into the lobby.

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing really.” We reached the elevator and I hit the up button. “They just wanted me to go dancing with them and were kind of bugging me about it.”

The elevator arrived, but George hesitated, holding it open with his hand instead of following me inside. “Should I be doing something heroic like finding them and telling them to leave young girls alone? Maybe slugging them? How big were they?”

“Let’s just go up.” I tugged him inside the elevator.

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